I think that we all drown, in one way or another.

Accidents happen. Our bones shatter, our skin splits, our hearts break. We burn, we drown, we stay alive.

I am afraid of everybody else's secrets

There's this magical place, ' he says with mock solemnity, 'called a library--I don't know if you've heard of it, but they have books, and also newspaper, and back issues of newspapers...

We bite back the things we can't say and we cushion every surface for the inevitable moment when they all come fighting out.

In the ghost house in the last days of the accident season, we were never going to die.

Our lives are a picture of what we ought to do, what we need to do, what we are planning to do and what we want to do.

I write songs for people who drive in cars. I really do.

I don't regret either of my marriages - not for a minute.

There is no such thing as character other than the habitual action, as Mr. Aristotle told us two thousand years ago.

The Smythe-Smith musicale. Thankfully, it came around just once per year, because Hyacinth was quite certain it would take a full twelve months for her ears to recover.

In judging others a man laboreth in vain; he often erreth, and easily falleth into sin; but in judging and examining himself he always laboreth to good purpose.

Lights of the world, and stars of human race.

Bashfulness is more frequently connected with good sense than we find assurance; and impudence, on the other hand, is often the mere effect of downright stupidity.